Sherlock looked pointedly at John sitting across from him in the waiting room. "Are you certain it is alright if you are away from Mary right now?"

"Yes, my friend, we, um, well we jumped the gun. Her labor is not progressing swiftly. It will be an age yet. Anyways, she's having a visit with Molly at present."

Sherlock looked away momentarily and then back to John. His friend's head jerked almost imperceptibly.

"Ah, nah, what's that look about, Holmes?"

Sherlock straightened in his seat and blinked lazily. "What look?"

"I don't know. I just thought I saw something on your face when I mentioned Molly. No, no, I was right. There it is again."

"Please, John, You are imagining things."

"Molly!"

John started laughing. He couldn't contain himself as he shifted forward, settling his weight on one foot then the other.

"Ha, ha, ha! What did you do this time? Or rather, what did she do after you did it to her?" John tilted his head one way and then the other as he searched Sherlock's face. "I don't see any marks so she didn't slap you. Did she punch you somewhere else? Are you sporting a bruise on your solar plexus? What did you say to earn that?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "What makes you think we've been anywhere near each other?"

John raised his brows. "My awesome powers of deduction. What do you think, you prat? You two arrived together."

"Ah, that. We did, didn't we?"

"Yes, you did. Did you follow her home from the lab or something?"

Sherlock stretched his neck. John didn't know how just how close he was to the truth.

"God, I hope you don't ever try your hand at poker, mate. You'd be shite at it."

Sherlock wrinkled his nose and scoffed. "Oh, do shut up, John!"

John ran a hand through his hair. "Ah, look, Sherlock, I really don't have the mental energy to expend right now trying to figure out what you two have going on except to say, you can't continue like this, you know? Molly's not someone you can collect like myself, or Greg, or even Mrs. Hudson . . ."

"John, you are hardly an expert on all things Molly."

"No, no, I fancy I'm rather more an expert on you," John said while rubbing his hands over his face.

John's leg jittered a moment and then went still. He became lost in thought. He pulled at his brow and as he spoke, a world populated before Sherlock's eyes.

"When I was serving in Afghanistan, we were constantly chasing strays away from the base. It was . . . very hard to turn a blind eye. They were starving, mangy buggers but they knew how to survive, you know? Of course, lots of fellows had pets back home and some of them couldn't help themselves. It was a pattern I saw over and over. A soldier would befriend one of the dogs, feed it, take care of it and earn its loyalty." John swallowed thickly. "One particular fellow had this ratty little blonde thing that would follow him everywhere except out on patrol. Well, one day this soldier returned to the base in a body bag and it was as if his dog forgot how to survive. It held vigil next to his coffin, watched the plane carrying his body fly away and then just laid down and waited for its master to return. We couldn't get rid of it, nor coax it with food or water. My commander eventually put it down because it had wasted away to nothing waiting . . . for the impossible."

Sherlock let out an incredulous, high-pitched laugh. "Really, John, if Molly heard you comparing her to a dog-"

John leaned forward and tapped him on the breastbone with his finger. "Look, we all love Molly, we do, but it's time you chased her away, that is if you still can. Especially if what you told me the other night is true."

It was Sherlock's leg's turn to dance beneath him. "I shouldn't be here."

John frowned.

Sherlock waved his hand at him. "No, I mean, I'm the last person you should have around your newborn, John. I am a magnet for the deranged and dangerous."

John let out a laugh. "And here I thought that was my lot in life. Um, you're not talking about Molly, are you?"

Sherlock barked a laugh. "Molly? Deranged? Dangerous? No, no, of course not. You know who I meant, John. Seriously though, you need only utter a word and I will remove myself."

"We've been over this, Sherlock. You're stuck with us. Besides, we've established that Moriarty has not, in fact, returned so there is not any actual threat to us at present," John said with a smile. "I can still not believe that broadcast was a prank."

Sherlock sat forward, placed his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on the tips of his fingers. "Well, prank is a rather tame description. I know Mycroft sees little threat in what occupies the time of a fourteen year old genius who has chosen hacking as his entertainment, but mark my words - that little shit will gridlock all internet traffic this side of the Atlantic one day just for fun."

John nodded. "What was his name again?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he stared through John. "Sebastian something or other . . . Moran I think it was. I should file that name away. I have no doubt we'll hear it again in the future."

For a minute they were both quiet. The hospital hummed around them.

"Sherlock, what we talked about, the, um, other one. Have you made any progress? Have you found him?"

Sherlock sat up. "No, he is proving elusive. I find myself at a loss, John. You and I have had dealings with some dangerous men but by comparison, they were twisters. This man, he is a cyclone. He will not want to return to exile and will do anything to prevent it. I cannot stress how careful you must be. He is more intelligent than myself and Mycroft, especially Mycroft. Aag! Stupid, stupid Mycroft! I cannot believe my brother was so gullible."

"But you did say he has no reason to come after us . . ."

"No, not at present. He is not concerned with the working of ants."

John pursed his lips. "Yeah, thanks for that. My family and I, we're just ants, are we?"

"Focus, John, I wasn't speaking of my regard for you and yours. This is how he views us all, but I have proved to be an annoying ant at times. I have managed to sting him. If he thinks interfering in your lives will somehow will lesson my potency, he will do it."

"Dr. Watson?" A melodic voice called.

Sherlock and John both looked towards the source of their interruption. A young nurse smiled at them.

"Yes?" John replied.

"Things are starting to pick up. Mary asked for me to fetch you. She was quite insistent."

John's eyes widened. He stood up with a bewildered look on his face.

"Lord, this is it then, isn't it?"

Sherlock stood and patted him on the back. "I suggest you make haste, John. It wouldn't do to upset Mary, for any of our sake."